


Super Black

by Stefanyeah



Category: Muse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stefanyeah/pseuds/Stefanyeah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Predators and Hunters meet</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hakubai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hakubai/gifts).



> Another prompt fill:  
> http://mkmeme.livejournal.com/3898.html?thread=436538
> 
> Dominic Howard and his partner are cursed to live on the energy of other human beings. While Dominic lures the target with his beauty his partner kills them, so they can feed on the life energy. They have done this for years already and not once have they doubted what they're doing. One day, though, his partner chooses Matthew Bellamy, a rather famous pianist, as the target. Dominic is enchanted the first time he lays eyes on Matt and soon learns that the feelings he's experiencing towards the man are long forgotten ones. He doesn't want to kill Matt, he wants to be with him, but is afraid of his rejection when he learns the truth. Also, he needs life energy to keep existing, which gets harder and harder, not only because he has to keep it a secret, but also because he's rediscovering emotions like guilt and remorse.
> 
> I'd LOVE a happy ending for them, but if the author wants to make it sad, that's fine by me as well.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foreshadowing Prologue is foreshadowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Beta‘s:** ebonystar and engel_sehnsucht  
>  I want my cookies now. :P
> 
> The name is stolen from a German band, Northern Lite. I read the prompt and happened to listen to Super Black (album and song) and the song just seemed to fit lyric-wise. [ Quick Youtube search only brought me life versions.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtP61-uWUj0)
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I don‘t own Muse or any other persons affiliated to them. I just write for my own pleasure and hopefully for the pleasure who read. No material profit is made with this, so please, don‘t sue.

**Prologue to a Death**

Do you know the feeling when you’re sitting all alone and something next to you seems to glimmer, a flash of light moving nearby? But as soon as you whip your head around, trying to catch the movement, it’s gone and you think it was just a trick of your mind.

And sometimes, it's a person, passing you on the street, looking at you. And you turn around, try to catch their eyes again, but they're gone as if you had imagined the short moment of contact.

If you ever experience this, you should be very careful. It might have been me, or someone like Grace, pointing you out, deciding on your fate.

People like us, for need of a better word, always come in pairs. One chooses, one lures. Together we kill our prey.

I don't remember who I was before, or why she decided to make me her partner. Maybe I was someone lovely and caring and she wanted to destroy something beautiful. Maybe I wasn't different from what I am now, cold and only acting for my own good. It doesn't matter, neither to me nor to her nor to him.

One chooses, the other lures; together we kill the prey.

Which is what brings me to this abandoned place that she chose as a hideout.

I'm kneeling over his still body, her lifeless body lying right beside me. Just when did I start caring?

_People like us don't fall in love._

 

 

**Prologue to a Dream**

Do you know the feeling when you’re sitting all alone and something next to you seems to glimmer, a flash of light moving nearby? But as soon as you whip your head around, trying to catch the movement, it’s gone and you think it was just a trick of your mind.

And sometimes, it's a person, passing you on the street, looking at you. And you turn around, try to catch their eyes again, but they're gone as if you had imagined the short moment of contact.

If you ever experience this, be careful. You might not survive the night. If you're lucky, someone else catches their attention; if you're even luckier, someone kills at least one of them rendering them unable to fulfil the deed.

People like us hunt them.

People like my family, to be more precise. I've always been an outcast, preferring to read a book instead of training how to hit the heart; writing a song instead of practising my gun skills. They always said I wouldn't survive long within this family. So they excluded me from it to keep me safe, denied my existence so as not to draw any attention to me.

Which is what brings me to this abandoned place, standing in front of him, arms spread and pleading with my brother.

_People like them don't fall in love._


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is chosen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on we go. Don‘t get used to the fast posting, though. :P

**The Tale of a Death**

I'm sitting on a bench, pretending to enjoy the sun and my ice cream. People are busy around us, ushering their kids around, sitting on benches and kissing or just running to the next stop in their little, worthless lives.

I sigh and squint sideways at Grace. As always, she took even more care with her appearance than me. Her long, blonde locks are sculptured into perfection, falling gracefully over her shoulders; the lips are painted in a dark red, her eyes are shaded in an even darker red, strangely enhancing her blue eyes.

She turns her head and smiles, dipping her head to whisper in my ear.

This gesture never fails to cause shivers to run down my spine, excitement gathering in my stomach at what is to come. There's not much I enjoy, but when she picks out a poor soul, it fills me with exaltation. The thrill of the hunt will always be exciting to me.

“Dominic,” Grace whispers into my ear. She lifts her hand and pushes my chin in the direction of a bench with one lonely occupant. “I've chosen him. Can you lure him in?”

I cock my head and peruse the man she has pointed out. The first impression I get of him is that of a kid who never had friends due to keeping his head in books. He's scrawny and pale and I don't know if the messed up look of his brunet hair is due to him simply not caring about his looks or actually wanted. His black shirt hangs loosely on his thin form, giving him an even tinier appearance.

“Him?” I ask. “Why him? He's…” I gesticulate, not knowing how to put my thoughts forward. Grace usually doesn't choose unimpressive people like him. She enjoys the exotic and flamboyant, and I'm too much like her to have even paid more than a second of my attention to the lone figure. This won't be a challenge.

She chuckles. “I wanted to discard him on first sight, but take a closer look; something about him just draws you in, doesn't it?” She reclines against the backrest and stretches, purring. “I want him, he'll be delicious.”

She relaxes and rises to her feet, brushing her lips against my cheek. “Have fun, my gorgeous one.”

And with that she leaves me.

I recline and turn my face towards the sun, squinting sideways beneath my sunglasses. I still fail to see what Grace sees in him, but it's not my task to question her decisions.

He flips a page over and pauses, looking up and watching a family passing by. Only now do I notice his blue eyes, his deep eye sockets casting shadows over them when he looks down again. I sigh and lean forward, cursing when I forget about the ice cream cone in my hands. The scoop on top slides and collides with my leg, leaving a melting, cold patch of wetness on my black trousers.

Someone chuckles and I hear the sound of a book closing. I look up just in time to see him advancing on me, still emitting this goofy chuckle.

“Sorry,” he says when he stands in front of me, grinning and revealing a crooked tooth. “I'm not meant to laugh at people I don't even know.”

“You're not meant to laugh at any people,” I retort and take off my sunglasses. He really has a stunning set of blue eyes, I notice. And standing directly in front of me, the sun casts shadows on his cheekbones, highlighting them even more. Slowly, I start to understand why Grace wants him.

He still grins and fumbles in his pocket. “I'm not sure about that,” he giggles. “There's no harm laughing with, and sometimes at, friends.” He produces a handkerchief and hands it to me. “Here you go, dry off the ice cream before it swallows your whole leg.”

I take the offered handkerchief and start rubbing against my leg, mostly succeeding in spreading it deeper into the fabric of my trousers. I sigh and look up to see him walking away.

“Hey,” I call out and he stops, turning back to me.

“Yeah?”

“Don't you want your handkerchief back?” I ask, waving the item in question.

He shakes his head. “Keep it as an apology for laughing at you.” He waves and turns again, walking away.

I know I should follow him, but there's no way I'm seen around with ice cream spread over my leg. I just hope he'll be back in this place tomorrow.

 

 

The following day, I sit on the same bench and wait. This time neither with Grace nor with an ice cream cone. I sigh and check my watch. I've been sitting here for about an hour and he still hasn't returned as I had hoped he would. Grace won't like this at all. I wince. She had been angry for me returning without any results the previous day, so if the designated prey doesn't turn up today, she won't be easy to appease with flimsy excuses.

I have only ever once failed to bring the designated prey to our hideout and the consequences had been painful. I shift and lean my head back, trying to forget the memories of being locked away and beaten for days. She knows a good hunt takes its time, so even if he doesn't turn up today I will be able to sit on this bench for a few more days before she'll get furious enough to unleash hell on me.

I check my watch again and sigh, prepared to call it a day and leave, when someone falls to the bench next to me.

I look up and see my blue-eyed prey sitting next to me, grinning.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asks.

“Well, yes,” I answer and take off my sunglasses, smirking at him and winking. “Actually, I was hoping to meet a certain, slightly rude stranger again.”

He chuckles and blushes. “It's rude to call other people rude, you know?” He leans his head back and squints into the sun, a grin still playing on his lips.

I swallow. He really has some nice cheekbones and a very nice throat. I can hardly suppress the impulse to lick my lips and sink my teeth into his flesh. He will be so worth the hunt. I look up again to find him watching me carefully.

“You know, some people might find it creepy if strangers stare at their throats like this,” he says and I can't read his expression. His playful mood has given way to a guarded expression.

“I'm sorry,” I mumble and avoid his eyes, looking down at my shoes. Maybe this hunt won't be as easy as I had first anticipated. I raise my head again, smiling. “Let me introduce myself, so we're not complete strangers any more.” I hold out my hand to him and he takes it. “I'm Dominic, friends call me Dom.”

He nods and shakes my hand. “I'm Matt,” he answers. “Short for Matthew.”

I grin broadly and let go of his hand to recline against the backrest again. “So, Matt,” I drawl, “you come often to this park?”

He reclines as well and looks at the couple on the bench that he had occupied yesterday. “Yeah, it's a nice place for reading a book.” He glances sideways at me. “I've never seen you here before yesterday. Are you new in this town?”

“Not really, I just never fancied taking a stroll and sitting in the park,” I explain.

“But your girlfriend forced you to take a walk,” he adds.

I laugh. “Almost. She's not my girlfriend though. She's just a good friend. We grew up together and she's staying at mine for a few days.”

“I see,” Matt answers and grins.

We spend an hour chatting, but I can't gather much information about Matt despite my best efforts. He's never unfriendly, but he refuses to reveal any information about himself bar his first name and his favourite literature and music.

I sigh and check my watch. “I've got to go,” I say, pouting. “Grace wants to drag me to the cinema tonight and she made it pretty clear she'd chop my head off if I dared so much as think about turning her down.”

Matt laughs and gets to his feet. “That'd be a real pity.” He checks his watch as well. “I've got to go, too. Important family obligations.”

I nod and stand as well, extending my hand. He takes it without any hesitation and shakes it.

“It was a pleasure meeting you again, Dom,” he says.

“The pleasure was all mine,” I answer. “Will you be here tomorrow as well?”

Matt cocks his head, frowning at nothing in particular. Eventually, he shakes his head. “Tomorrow's Tuesday, I've got obligations to attend to.”

I nod and pout. He wouldn't even tell or hint at what he was working as. “What about Wednesday or Thursday?”

“Thursday sounds fine,” he smiles. “See you on Thursday, Dom.”

He lets go of my hand and turns, walking away. I watch him for a while before slowly following him, making sure there's always at least a tree between us to hide myself. He doesn't turn around though.

I follow Matt and wait in front of the supermarket until he exits, some leeks peeking out of his full tote bag. He walks by a bookstore, stopping to look at a few books on display. He frowns and turns his head, looking directly at the spot that I stood in just a few seconds before.

Did he notice me? I let myself fall back. Eventually, he shakes his head and continues walking with me on his heels.

It‘s been a few decades since someone noticed me observing them and I have to admit, I'm impressed by Matt. Never would I have thought someone like him could be this perceptive. I shortly wonder if he's just paranoid, but I've hunted paranoid people before. They never even act as if they notice me, too busy checking their surroundings to actually see me lurking. Matt's different.

I can't suppress the giggle. This is going to be so much fun. And he indeed is a fine specimen upon closer inspection. Which means that not only the hunt will be so much fun, but also it means the fruits of the hunt will be so fine and enjoyable.

I lick my lips and carefully leave my current place to slide behind another tree.

Matt has walked into a smaller street and past a few houses, before he stops in front of an old, four-apartment building. He fumbles with the lock and disappears into the corridor. The door falls shut behind him and I look up at the front, waiting until one of the dark windows lights up. I walk up to the door and study the bell plate.

_M. Bellamy_

Gotcha!

I walk away, humming cheerfully. Although, the name Bellamy is grating my memories. Somewhere, I've heard it before.

 

 

**The Tale of a Dream**

I spin around in the kitchen, humming to Romeo and Juliette and slicing a few tomatoes before throwing them into the pan with a dramatic gesture. I giggle and throw the onions in as well, looking around the kitchen for a few other ingredients.

Only half an hour later, I'm dancing to the living room table, graceful as a swan on mushrooms, and setting the table when the doorbell rings. I look up at the clock on my wall and sigh. He's always too early.

I put down the plates and jump to the window.

“C'mon, you've got the keys,” I shout down. “Let yourself in and don't distract me from preparing dinner.”

I close the window again without waiting for an answer and return to setting up the table. The lock in the door goes just when I put down the forks and I turn, grinning at Paul.

“You really don't have to ring the bell every Monday, I know you're visiting.”

Paul shrugs and slips out of his coat, hanging it up next to mine.

“It's rude not to ring when you're visiting someone else,” he answers.

I snigger, “What's up with all you people considering everything rude today?”

He cocks his eyebrow, but I ignore it. “C'mon, dinner's waiting for us.”

“Don't tell me you've made pasta again,” he groans.

I bat him on the arm. “You know that's the only thing I can cook, really.”

“I really should send you on a cooking course some time,” he announces.

I hit him on the head this time. “I might be gay, but I'm not going to participate in such silliness.”

Paul sighs and sits down at the table, helping himself to some noodles and pasta. “I figured as much.”

I poke my tongue out at him and help myself to some food, digging in and chatting about my day at university.

“You're rather chipper today,” Paul observes after a while.

“Maybe,” I giggle.

He puts his cutlery down and leans over the table. “What happened, little bro?”

I look at him, wide-eyed, trying to play ignorant between giggles. “What should've happened?”

“Haven't seen you like this since you met Corey for the first time.”

And just like that, my good mood is dampened. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“I thought you were over him.”

“I am,” I answer. “You don't have to remind me of how it started, though.”

Paul looks at me for a moment and eventually shrugs. “Anyway, what's up with you being all smiles today? You've met someone.”

“Yeah…” I drawl.

“At the university?”

“Nope.”

“Library?”

I shake my head and he frowns.

“You met someone at the pub. You know what I think about you playing the piano in a seedy gin mill like that.”

“And I've told you before that this is my decision. I have to earn my money for university and playing piano is the best I've got.” Paul opens his mouth, but I continue with our previous subject without allowing him to speak up. “And I haven't met him in the pub either. It was in the park I usually sit in to read my study material.”

His frown deepens and I sigh, knowing what's to come now. “Matthew… You know parks are favourite hunting grounds for…”

“I know, Paul,” I disrupt him. “All he knows is my first name and my music and literature taste. I'm not easy prey, contrary to popular belief.”

“What do you know about him?”

I sigh again. “He's called Dominic, lives close by, has a childhood friend named Grace staying over and doesn't like Tolkien or Rachmaninoff.”

“Has someone been following you?” he continues the inquisition.

I frown, thinking about the tingling in my spine when I had stopped by the bookstore. For one moment, I had been sure…

“Matthew, has someone been following you?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Are you _absolutely_ sure?”

“Yes, Paul, I am sure,” I snap and rise, the chair falling back behind me. “And I know to be careful. You never pass a chance to remind me of the fact that I would be a very easy and prime target if it ever was known that the Bellamy clan has an offspring like me. Can you now please stop making me feel like a bloody failure?”

Paul frowns up at me. “Matt, no one thinks you're a failure. I'm just worried about you.”

“Whatever,” I mumble and bend down to straighten the chair again. I sit down and twist a few noodles onto my fork before pushing them into my mouth and chewing.

“Matt, you know we care about you,” Paul says, putting one hand on my arm. “But you're not trained; you're too vulnerable to officially accept you in the clan again. You'd be dead within two days.”

I sigh and look down at my plate. “I know. I'm not stupid.”

 

 

A few hours later, I lie in my bed, thinking about the day.

I know I'm easy prey should some of those freaks decide to attack me. I lack strength and the knowledge of where to hit efficiently. All I've got in favour of me is my brain, and I doubt that I could out-think my way out of a direct assault.

I lift my hand to run over the back of my left shoulder. The teeth marks of that beast have already faded, but I can still feel them, can feel the burn that even the scarcest of teeth had left. I don't want to imagine what it would have felt like if the poison had been forced into my veins. If Paul hadn't been there, ten years ago, I would have died.

I died nevertheless. After that incident, it had been decided to proclaim me dead and I had disappeared for years with only little contact with even Paul. I sigh, wondering how long this life I have now could work out.

Tired of hiding, I was back in town. And with that back in regular touch with Paul, studying and working using my given name. Still, I remain unspoken about within my family. It's frustrating, being treated as a dead person. I shake my head, and try to think of something different.

Tomorrow, I would have to attend a university course about mediaeval literature and I had only read one of the chapters that we were assigned. I had planned on reading the other chapters in the park today, but somehow I had been distracted.

I smile and turn onto my side, one hand resting against my bare chest, the other resting between my legs. It has been too long since I've felt someone else' touch on me. I sigh and close my eyes, imagining grey eyes and blond hair and a smirk directed at me, laden with filthy promises.

I wonder what his touch would feel like. Would he know just how to touch me? Know that lightly brushing his palm over my nipples could make me beg? Know how a tongue circling around my erection could make me shudder and claw at my lover's skin? Would he appreciate his partner to be sensitive to his touches? Would he like my moaning at the merest whisper of skin on skin?

“Dominic…”

I speed up the strokes on my erection, hips bucking and fingers flicking at nipples. I come, imagining his voice drawling my name into my ear.

I roll onto my back, panting, and look at the ceiling. I lift my sticky hand and look at it, twisting it around in the sparse light of the street lamp.

“Can I trust you, Dominic?”


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunt continues and a Second Meeting occurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on we gooo, wheeeee. XDAnd on we gooo, wheeeee. XD  
> Hope you all like, this one‘s a really slow one, but then, better not rush into things, eh? ;)
> 
> Edit: Now I know what I wanted to write in the AN… The Pub's bar, the name's nicked from a Tom Waits song. :) I never really heard anything from Tom Waits before, but I often google for random things when looking for names and usually I find something to look into and use, and this time I was introduced to a song by Tom Waits. Yay. XD

**The Tale of a Death**

The following day, I get up early and lurk in front of Matt's house. I'm not sure when he usually leaves, and for a moment I'm afraid that I've missed him. But then I see movement behind the curtains and I rush to disappear from view.

I replay the night and the discussion I had with Grace while waiting for Matthew to leave the house.

 

 

She was reading some kind of romance novel, snorting at the undoubtedly happy ending when I came back. She looked up and frowned, throwing her book carelessly to the floor.

„Why are you coming back alone?“ she snapped.

I shrugged. „He‘s suspicious,“ I answered. „It‘s strange. He seems like this cheerful, open type, but he never reveals anything about himself. As if he‘s masking his cautiousness with being amiable.“

Grace snorted. „Or you‘re just getting inattentive and bored.“

„I can assure you, I‘m not,“ I snapped. „You said it yourself when you picked him, there‘s something about him.“ I smirk and change my tone, swaggering over to her. „This hunt is too precious to finish fast,“ I purred and straddled her hips. „I will take my time and savour it.“

Her lips twitched. „I just hope you won‘t let us starve over it, Dominic.“

Giggling, I shook my head. „We can always rely on other prey, but he… He‘s got to be savoured and enjoyed.“

„In this case,“ Grace purred and ran her hands over my thighs, „have fun, my little Dominic.“

 

 

I almost miss Matthew leaving, only catching sight of him when he‘s turning around the corner. I rush to follow him, staying on his heels for the next few hours.

It‘s boring to say the least. He‘s heading straight for university and towards the lecture hall that I can‘t follow him into since he would notice me. With any other prey, I wouldn‘t be afraid. I’ve sat two rows behind students without them recognising me, but Matthew is too perceptive to jeopardise the success of my hunt.

I giggle and stroll through the building, not wanting to linger and draw attention to myself. It had been a long time since a hunt had been this exciting and fun. Recently, our prey had fallen almost too easily to me, I realised.

 

 

**The Tale of a Dream**

I wake up far too early to the sounds of my alarm going. I hate Tuesdays. Not really the whole day in general, but the fact that I have to get up at eight am and can't get back into bed until one am. It's too long a day for poor old me.

I groan and roll out of my bed, straightening and stretching my stiff limbs. At least it‘s summer and already light. I don‘t want to think about winter just yet. Cold and dark days make getting up just that much harder.

I feel the tingling in my spine again and frown, turning around to look out of the window. Of course, no one's there. Maybe I should have told Paul about this particular feeling yesterday. I know that this isn't me being paranoid. If this feeling persists, it means there is something following me.

I shake my head and rush into the bathroom to get ready for a long day.

 

 

I leave the university and look up into the evening sky. There still should be enough time to go and grab some dinner when I arrive at the Drinking Piano. I walk towards the nearest station and onto the next train.

I watch trees and houses rush by, the buildings first turning old and uppity, than fancy and modern, and eventually old and used. I push myself out of the seat and leave the train, walking slowly past a few cafés until I stop in front of an old building, yellow tainted glass windows framed by black wood lining the front.

I look up at the large sign and shake my head. _The Piano Has Been Drinking_. What a telling name for a pub.

Either way, the pay is fair, I usually get tipped well and people who so much as think about throwing their glasses at the pianist are kicked out of the pub without so much as a warning. I sure have played worse places.

I walk around to the backdoor and slip inside, making a beeline towards the kitchen. As always, Chris and Kelly are already buzzing around, chopping vegetables and peeling potatoes in preparation for the night. Kelly is just shouting orders at the other staff. The woman shouted at salutes sloppily and hurries to fetch the required item, leaving the plate with the hamburger abandoned on the table.

„Kelly, you slave driver,“ I laugh, „you won‘t keep your staff if you let them starve.“

She turns to me and laughs as well. „They need to work for their food, little pianist.“ She rushes towards me and shoves me to the empty seat at the table, noticing the longing look I throw at the hamburger.

„Have you eaten after university?“ she asks.

„No, ma‘am, only between lectures,“ I admit.

She tuts and rushes off and not five minutes later a plate with fries and a new hamburger is put down in front of me.

„You better eat now,“ she says, „don‘t want you to fall off your chair, little pianist.“

I salute and tuck in, watching Chris and Kelly go about their preparations and the bickering between them. I snigger and throw in remarks, usually picking Kelly‘s side. Eventually, Chris rolls his eyes and comes over, taking away my plate.

„That‘s it,“ he growls. „You‘re not paid to eat and make fun at your boss in front of his wife.“

„But your wife said I should eat, so I can work and not fall off my chair during work,“ I retort and reach for my plate.

But the giant that is Chris has already lifted the plate out of reach, holding his hands up. „In this case, you won‘t object if I deduct the price for the food you devour from your wages, shall I?“

„You evil man!“ I cry and pretend to sob. Immediately, Kelly is by my side and berates her husband for bullying me. Eventually, Chris puts down the plate again and chuckling, I continue eating, grinning with my mouth full at Chris. Within a second, I feel a slap against the back of my head.

„Manners, Matthew, manners,“ Kelly tuts.

Chris laughs while I swallow. „Yes, ma‘am.“

 

 

The room slowly fills while I sit at the piano, playing a few slow melodies. I don‘t pay attention to the patrons or to the pieces I‘m playing. At this time of the evening, it doesn‘t really matter yet. People are just coming in from work and looking for some quick food on their way home. In an hour, people will come in and expect to be entertained.

I feel the familiar tingle in my spine and look up, trying to find a face I recognise amongst the patrons. But I don‘t see anyone. I see the shadows of people passing on the street and, like every night I‘m playing the Drunken Piano at this time, no one pays attention to me.

Shrugging, I return to the piano and just forget about my surroundings. Until I hear a voice that I had imagined in my ears just the previous night.

„Matt?“

I look up and blink, confused. „Dom?“ I ask, giggling. „What are you doing here?“ I glance at the patrons and towards the bar. „Give me five more songs and I‘ll find you.“

He nods and retreats towards the table closest to the piano. When I‘ve finished the songs and leave the piano for my break, he‘s already halfway through his first glass of Guinness and there‘s a second, untouched glass standing on the table in front of the empty chair.

I slide into the chair, nodding at the glass. „Are you expecting someone?“

„As a matter of fact, yes,“ he drawls. „I was hoping a gorgeous pianist would join me for a while.“

I blush and shift on my chair. Unfortunately, the way he‘s drawling reminds me of yesterday night. My hand twitches and I flex it.

He chuckles and nods towards the Guinness in front of me. „I asked at the bar what you like, I hope they didn‘t prank me.“

I laugh and shake my head, taking the glass and sipping on it. „No, for once they didn‘t.“

„Where's Grace?“ I ask once I‘ve put the glass onto the coaster again. I don‘t know what to talk about. And I definitely don‘t want to be caught staring at his hands, imagining how they would feel on…

„She left earlier today,“ he answers. „Gone home and left me to my own life again.“

„And you thought, let's celebrate freedom and go watch a piano concerto in a pub.“

Dom giggles. „I just wanted a drink, and this is the best area for getting drinks. Didn‘t know they had live music in here.“ He smirks at me. „But I‘m not complaining when the pianist is such a thing of beauty.“

„Why, thank you,“ I drawl, leaning closer. „Flattery will get you far, my pretty friend.“

Dom laughs and reclines and my eyes fall to his collarbone, the deep-cut shirt doing a good job of revealing just a few tantalising glimpses.

He winks and takes a sip of his own beer. I swear he‘s putting on a show for me, emphasising the bob of his Adam‘s apple when he swallows. I swallow in likeness and reach for my own glass.

When I put down the glass again, he‘s staring at me, unabashedly. There‘s something in his expression, something in his eyes. Some kind of hunger that makes me shudder. It‘s been too long a time since I actually have felt another man‘s touch and even longer since I‘ve actually felt desired. A life of hiding rarely goes hand in hand with an intact and active love life.

„Either way,“ I steer the conversation back to our topic. „the name of the pub should have given you an idea about music.“ I grin and lean forward, propping my chin up on my hand, actually happy that I decided to leave the first buttons of my shirt open. Sure enough, his eyes fall deeper, tracing my collarbone.

He looks up at my face again, smirking. „Can you actually play the title song to this pub?“

I snigger and recline in my chair. „Yes, I‘m just afraid I won‘t be able to do the voice.“

Dom pouts. „I‘m sure you‘ve got an amazing singing voice.“

„Yeah, but not for this particular song. Trust me, I‘ve got the vocal chords of a woman.“

„Do you scream like a woman during,“ he gesticulates, „you know?“

„You‘d like to find that out, wouldn‘t you?“

He shifts closer, his hand finding its way onto my knee. „As a matter of fact, yes, I very much would like to find out. I‘d love to hear you scream my name.“

I shiver and look down at his hand. Eventually, I shake my head. „Sorry, I‘m not doing one night stands,“ I mumble.

His hand remains on my knee. „Who says I want a one night stand?“

„Sorry, but…“ I gesticulate and his hand disappears from my knee.

„I thought…“ he starts and falls silent. „Sorry, my mistake for assuming…“

I shake my head, rubbing my hand over the place where his has just been. „No, it‘s not your mistake. Not at all. It‘s just…“ I sigh. „I‘m a weirdo when it comes to relationships,“ I answer, only telling half the truth. I sigh again. And this is how you fuck up relationships before they can even start.

„We could take it slow,“ Dom suggests. „I do understand you, you know? I don‘t want meaningless sex, either.“

I nod and look at him, waiting for him to continue.

„We could date, get to know each other more and see where things go?“ he smiles.

I nod again and reciprocate the smile. „I‘d like that.“

„Splendid,“ he exclaims. „Our date in the park still standing?“

„Of course,“ I answer and rise from the chair. „Thanks for the beer.“


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Date occurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on we go in this little story of hunting and teasing and seducing.

**The Tale of a Death**

The following day, I don‘t follow him around. I know where Matt lives, what he does, where he works and we‘ve got a date. I can back off without risking anything. Actually, I risk less by backing off, since he‘s far too perceptive to follow around all day.

So I‘m lying on the sofa in our living room instead of lurking in front of Matt‘s house. I‘ve picked up Grace‘s book and as expected, it‘s a cheap and badly written romance novel. I don‘t know why she reads this shit. The first thing she ever taught me was that people like us cannot love.

And it‘s true. I find myself rather empty where everyone else would be head over heels in emotions. I can‘t remember if I ever felt the moisture of tears if it wasn‘t for the odd droplet during yawning. I can‘t even remember if I had ever smiled at someone for the sake of smiling. It is just a matter of luring after all, and life is easier this way.

I hear the door to Grace‘s room go and sigh, letting the book plop on my face. I can hear her footsteps nearing and stopping next to me, but refuse to acknowledge her.

„Stop pretending you‘re asleep,“ she hisses and yanks the book away.

I sigh and sit up, rolling my shoulders. Her foot is next to me within a second and she pushes me back against the backrest, her hand tightly pressed against my throat.

„Why are you not following the prey?“

„Because he‘d become too suspicious,“ I answer. „I told you, he‘s far too perceptive to follow all day.“

„You‘ll lose him,“ she snarls.

„I won‘t. We‘ve got a date today.“

„A date.“

I nod and chuckle. „We met in the bar where he works yesterday evening, we flirted. And I think he‘s trying to seduce me.“

Grace‘s hold on my throat loosens and she straightens again. A smile is tugging on her lips. „In this case, it shouldn‘t take you much longer.“

„Oh, it will take some more time,“ I answer cheerfully. „I want him to fall completely for me. It‘s not enough to lure him somewhere deserted and gash my teeth into his flesh, I want this victory to be complete.“

 

 

A few hours later, I leave our house and head for the park, humming cheerfully. I wonder how far I can get today, how many more metaphorical hooks I can insert into him. And I realise that it really isn‘t enough to just have him fall a bit.

I want him to follow me, to yearn after me. I want to fuel his desire until he begs for me to take his life. I want him as completely and hopelessly as someone can fall for another being.

 

 

**The Tale of a Dream**

I stand in front of the mirror and run my hands through my hair. This the first time that we won‘t meet by chance and I‘m actually nervous.

How should I wear my hair? Should I leave it like it is; floppy, brown strands quite frankly sticking up whenever and wherever they want? Or should I try and tame them? Would it appear as too keen to please? After all he had seen me ,normal‘ already.

And what should I wear? What would bring out my eyes the best?

I stop rifling through my wardrobe that I had hopped towards during my little panicked monologue. This is stupid, isn‘t it? I giggle. I‘m behaving like a little school girl trying to impress her first crush who happens to be a few grades above and so out of reach…

Blindly, I pick a t-shirt and a pair of black trousers and pull them on. Only then do I step in front of the mirror again, ruffling through my hair a last time. I grin.

Black trousers, white shirt with the silhouette of a black bird and a few leaves. It‘s just good.

Whistling, I walk into the corridor, pick up my keys and leave my apartment to make my way to the nearby park.

 

 

He‘s already there, sitting on the bench where I had first met him. His head is tipped back and his eyes are closed, the sun giving his blond hair an alluring shine. I wet my lips, swiftly walk over to him and fall down onto the bench.

He opens his eyes and smiles at me.

„Hello, stranger,“ I greet him.

He dips his head and I notice his eyes moving over my attire before meeting my face again. He pouts. „And that was me hoping we were at least acquaintances by now.“

I swallow and avoid his eyes, mumbling a short apology. I can feel the long-since healed marks on my shoulder itch, reminding me to not trust someone I‘m meeting for the third time.

„Hey, I was just joking,“ he says and I feel him shift nearer a fraction. „I think we decided we‘re fine on taking it slowly.“

I look up at him again and smile. „Yeah, I‘m afraid you‘ll be bored of my constant backtracking before long, though.“

His eyes widen dramatically and he presses a hand against his heart. „Me? Never!“ he exclaims.

I giggle and hit him on the arm before reclining against the backrest, allowing my shoulder to rest against his. „Do you have anything planned for our first date?“

„Not really,“ he admits, „I was thinking, maybe walking around and sitting in a café? I‘d love to take you home, but I think that‘d be moving too fast, wouldn‘t it?“

I nod. „Yeah, thank you.“

We fall silent for a moment, his arm finding its way on the backrest of the bench and behind me. I smile, only just stopping myself from having another school girl moment of mad giggling.

„I know a nice café, not far from here, actually,“ I announce and jump up, grabbing his hand and dragging him after me. „They make the best éclairs* you‘ll ever have.“

„Éclairs?“

„The best!“ I exclaim. „Even if you usually don‘t like éclairs, you will try one and love it.“

„I don‘t even remember when I last had one,“ Dom admits.

I stop and gawk at him, pressing my hands against my chest in my own dramatic pose. „You poor child! It seems I am just in time to save you from missing one of the best things on this earth.“

He laughs and slides closer, his arm resting around my waist now.

„I could imagine a few other, tasty things that‘d beat any éclair,“ he drawls into my ear.

I swallow and shiver. „Actually, I have a confession to make,“ I purr and shift closer to him, pressing my lips against his earlobe. „I was thinking about you last night.“

Dom turns his head to look at me, licking his lips. „You were?“

I nod. „I was thinking about you, about how you could touch me. And I came, your name on my lips.“

„So much for taking it slowly,“ he answers and leans in closer, but I retreat again, a finger pressed against his lips.

„Admiring from afar is still within any borders.“

„But admitting it to the person in question, is an entirely different game,“ he growls and pulls me close again. He jerks his head away from my finger and before I can react, his lips are on mine.

My hands fist in his shirt and I know I should push him away – that it‘s far too soon to trust someone this much already.

But it‘s been too long and he‘s too good. And fuck, I want him, no matter if it‘s sensible to give myself to someone again or not.

Sighing, I break away and he mumbles an excuse. I nod and smile at him, answering his excuse with my own.

„What does it take for you to trust me?“ Dom asks finally.

I look at my feet and shrug. „Time,“ I whisper. I look up again, offering a timid smile. „It‘s complicated, had a few… nasty events in my life and rationality is always telling me not to rush into things headfirst.“

He nods and awkward silence settles between us while we walk side by side.

„Well, let‘s start this anew,“ he says and stills.

I stop and turn to him, frowning, puzzled.

Grinning widely, he extends his hand. „I think I haven‘t properly introduced myself yet. My name‘s Dominic Howard and right now, I‘m between jobs.“

I reciprocate his grin and take his hand. „Matthew Bellamy, full-time student and part-time pianist.“

His grin deepens and he pulls me closer again. „Are we now past the strangers status?“ he drawls into my ear.

I nod. „Acquaintances, at least,“ I answer.

 

 

„Soooo,“ he drawls when we‘re sitting in a corner of the small, family-run café I had dragged him to, „I can‘t help, but being curious, and please do tell me if I‘m too forward, but you were the one to start this topic…“

„You want details,“ I state and recline against the small, cushioned bench, smirking.

He nods and his eyes fall to my hands that are playing with the spoon. I let the handle slip through my fingers until it hits the table top, moving my hand down to lift it up and letting it slip downwards again.

„I want to imagine how you lie on your bed, writhing on your sheets and legs spread.“

I shiver. „I‘ll tell you if you‘ll describe yourself afterwards.“

He swallows and shifts uneasily, but eventually leans closer. „That‘d be only fair, I guess.“

I dip my head and lean forward, shifting closer to him so I don‘t have to raise my voice above a whisper.

„Last night, I came from the shower, skin and hair still damp, and slipped into bed. I tried to sleep, but I kept thinking of the Drinking Piano, of you and your voice when you drawled in my ear how you‘d like to hear me shout your name.“

I pause and smirk at him. Sighing, I recline again and close my eyes.

„I always start stroking over my chest, brushing past my nipples and twisting them.“

„Do you like it when your partner teases you?“ he drawls. „Do you imagine my lips on your skin, mapping the way from your shoulder to your chest, my tongue licking around your nipples…“

I shift uneasily when he mentions my shoulder, but the short moment of unease is forgotten when he describes the descent of his mouth. I blush and shift, pressing one palm against my groin. He notices and smirks, continuing to describe how he‘d suck and nibble on my skin, how he‘d stroke his hands over my sides, down my abdomen and along my thighs. He stops his narration with a suck on my navel.

„And that‘s what I imagine at night.“

I blink and cough. „Yeah… something like that.“

„You like to be passive?“ Dom asks.

I shrug. „I enjoy being worshipped,“ I admit. „It‘s not about being passive, it‘s about enjoying the other paying attention to you and how you react to his actions.“

He chuckles. „Who would have thought you‘d be such a needy lover?“

I blush. „I… I‘m not needy,“ I argue weakly. „I just prefer an attentive lover.“ I pout and cross my arms. „Apart from that, I like to spoil my lover as well. Just because I demand attention doesn‘t mean I wouldn‘t take care of you as well.“

„Of me, eh?“

„Well, you in the generic sense, whoever my partner is…“ I gesticulate weakly. That‘s a first class Freudian Slip right there. Eventually, I shrug. „Yeah… you… I‘d like to worship your body.“

„But you can‘t yet, because you don‘t trust me,“ he states.

„Yeah, sorry.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Where I come from, we call them _Liebesknochen_. Love Bones. I translated the word for fun and realised this would have been a perfect chance for crude cross-language punning if anyone would get it. XD
> 
> Since no one would, I didn‘t even try to come up with something clever, but horrible.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little Jump ahead in Time and Two Decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot. Thickens. *plays-eerie-music* What do you think will happen next, muahahahaaa

**The Tale of a Death**

Fuck.

This little fucker has infiltrated my mind with his whispered confessions and questions, his bloody demands that I tell him what I do when wanking. I haven‘t wanked in fucking ages. I either used some random prey for a quick release or just shrugged it off. So whenever he asks me to describe how I touch myself, I have to make up how I‘m wanking at night; make up carnal desire in order to fuel his desire for me.

Except now I don‘t have to make up stories about how I imagine his body at night anymore. Except now, I‘m finding myself telling him the truth about how I lie awake at night, how I want his skin on mine, his hands on my flesh, his breath against my neck.

It‘s fucking annoying how he seems to have turned the tables, how I start craving his physical presence. I can‘t fucking wait until I have him at my feet. Until I can crush him and return to the superior hunter I was before Bloody Matthew Fucking Bellamy.

My hand falls between my legs and I close my eyes, imagining blue staring at me. I want to hear his voice whisper sultry promises in my ear; I want him to describe what he does to himself, what he wants to do to me. I want to hear him gasp my name.

I growl and flip over, lying on my side and refusing to acknowledge the hardness between my legs. The little fucker is not going to win. He‘ll be screaming my name before long, and it won‘t be in pleasure.

 

 

I roll out of bed and groan. Sleep was not a loyal companion this night. I had been awake most of the time, staring at the wall and refusing to give into the urge to touch myself. This endeavour had one major flaw, though. By doing my best to avoid thinking about _him_ , I made sure that my thoughts returned to his lithe form and pale skin with unsettling frequency.

I blink at the light that filters through the window. We‘ve been actually dating for two weeks now. I know he has an older brother, I know he studies literature and plays the piano in the „Drunken Piano“ two days each week. He‘s twenty-three and has been living in different cities during previous years. I know he likes éclairs, Tom Waits, Prokofiev and Rachmaninoff, he likes stargazing and the smell of grass and earth after rain. He also leaves no doubt that he‘d like to fuck me through the mattress, or to be fucked through the mattress by me respectively.

And still I have not once set foot in his flat. Officially, I don‘t even know where he lives.

Sighing, I get dressed and comb my hair before making my way downstairs. I hope Grace isn‘t up yet. I really can‘t be bothered with her nagging me in the morning.

Of course she wants the prey that she picked over two weeks ago. The random offerings I drag back to our residence can only cater to the need for nutrition, but her appetite is set on Matt. I lick my lips. He‘s going to be delicious, once he really lets me into his life.

I walk into the kitchen and groan. Of course, Grace is already there. She‘s sitting at the table and apparently, she‘s been waiting for me.

„Three days,“ she says in place of a greeting.

I frown. „What?“

„Three days,“ she repeats, voice still void of any emotion bar a hint of impatience. „Three days, then I want him here, ready to be devoured.“

„But…“ Three days is too soon, I need more time with him.

„I‘ve been watching this for long enough, Dominic,“ she hisses. „You‘re changing because of him, and it‘s not for the better.“

„What are you implying?“ I snap.

„You seem to succumb to the delusion of love.“

I snort and make to leave the room.

„Your denial makes it even clearer,“ Grace‘s voice follows me. „Either you‘ll prepare and bring him over within three days, or I‘ll find a new lurer.“

I swallow, understanding the implicated threat too well, and let the door fall shut behind me.

There‘s no need to lurk around anymore, since our meetings are planned now and I really don‘t want to fuck anything up by him finding me and considering me some kind of sick creep.

We‘ll be meeting again tomorrow, because today, he‘s got curses and his brother visits. So I‘m left to my own thoughts about how to tear down his final border within three days.

 

 

**The Tale of a Dream**

I want him.

Fuck, I really want him.

I close the door behind Paul and curse for not having given Dom at least my phone number. If I can‘t have him physically yet, I at least want phone sex, I want to listen to his voice when he‘s coming and I want him to hear me coming.

My eyes fall onto the table and I sigh. Maybe cleaning the dishes and reminding myself of Paul‘s speech about caution and careful trust will distract me for a while. Or I‘ll just start humping the kitchen counter. I stop in the door to my kitchen, staring at the worktop with the dirty plates in my hands.

Fuck. I want him on the fucking worktop.

I shake my head to clear the image of a naked Dom lounging on the work plate and licking the remnants of pasta from his fingers. Tomorrow, I‘ll give him my phone number. If not more. The nights just with my own hands have grown frustrating by now and I don‘t care if I’ve only known him for a bit more than two weeks.

 

 

**The Tale of a Death**

I sit on our bench, waiting for Matt. I know I‘m early, but I still need more time to plan.

Grace‘s ultimatum has hit me unexpectedly. Not unexpected in the sense of being surprised by given one, but unexpected regarding what it would cause in me. The thought of feasting on Matt isn‘t that tempting all of a sudden. I had been so busy getting close to him, getting him to fall for me, that I hadn‘t noticed how easy I feel around him.

How could I fail to notice that I had entangled myself in the net of seduction and teasing as well? If I don‘t end this game fast, I‘ll be the one who loses.

So, I‘m sitting on our bench, thinking about what to tell him. Trying to come up with a story that Matt will believe and that‘ll lead him to taking me home. I briefly consider telling him I‘m going to move because of work, but I never mentioned anything related to that before. It‘d be too sudden for him to believe that I had found a place to work in a far away city within a day.

In the end, I decide to tell him a story about Grace being in an accident and me being a close childhood friend and concerned about her leaving for a while. And no, I don‘t know when I‘ll be back, I‘ll miss you, but… she needs me now, you know?

Yes, that‘ll do. He‘ll understand. He‘ll nod and smile and eventually will take me home, because we won‘t be able to meet for a few days, weeks or months.

I nod and recline, turning my face skywards and closing my eyes.

I don‘t know how long I‘ve been sat like that when I hear someone advancing from behind and two slender hands press against my eyelids, a familiar giggle reaching my ears.

„Guess who it is?“ he croons in my ear, lowering his voice to a throaty growl.

„Matthew,“ I state and shiver.

He giggles again and walks around the bench to fall down beside me. He leans back against the backrest and looks into the sky, and once again, I notice the clear blue of his eyes and the prominent bones of his cheeks.

Frowning, he turns his head and narrows his eyes. He straightens and his features grow serious.

„Is something wrong?“

„Well,“ I start and shift. Why can‘t I just tell him the lie I made up? I shrug. „It‘s nothing, really.“ And with that I blow my chance of tricking him. If I start on the story now, he‘ll know I‘m lying.

Instead, I lean over, my hand in his hair, scratching softly, and press my lips against his.

Matt sighs when I pull away again. He shifts closer and rests his head against my shoulder. „I never gave you my phone number, did I?“

I shake my head. „No. I didn‘t give you mine, either.“

He sits up again and fumbles in his pocket, swishing through the menu and phone book. Eventually, he turns the screen for me to read. „Here it is,“ he announces, grinning broadly.

I smile and retrieve my own phone with a simple pre-paid card that I bought specifically for this hunt. I save his number before ringing him so he has mine as well.

I watch him typing in my name and saving the number and shift. It makes me feel uncomfortable, but I can‘t place a finger on the reason. I should feel uncomfortable in case someone finds his phone and somehow manages to backtrack the number after his death, but that‘s not the reason.

My phone will be discarded, the SIM-card destroyed by then, so I don‘t even need to feel any unease. I should be delighted at being one step closer to winning.

Still, I feel disturbed at the thought of Matt dead, and even more disturbed at the thought of being the one to bring him death. I let my head fall against his shoulder and close my eyes. I have to finish this fast, so I can return to the hunter I once was.

„Can I trust you, Dominic?“

I open my eyes and raise my head, looking at him.

Matt‘s smiling, but I can tell he‘s nervous. Is he really going to hand himself over without me having to nudge him into this direction? Can it be that he‘s sealing his fate this willingly now? I smile back and open my mouth to answer.

But for a moment, I'm tempted to say 'no', to tell him to run and forget me. But I can't. And I don't even know anymore if I answer how I answer for the sake of the hunt.

“Yes, you can trust me.”

Do I really mean this?

I kiss him and close my eyes, feeling guilty. I know he's searching my face, and he'd know I was lying if I opened my eyes. So why do I keep them closed? I should open them, allow him to see the depth of my soul or whatever it is that keeps me going. Allow him to see what I am and to escape.

But then he kisses me again and rests his head on my shoulder.

“Tomorrow, do you have anything planned for tomorrow night?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Come to me,” he whispers and presses his lips against my earlobe. I can feel him rise and hear him walk away. And I open my eyes in time to see him looking back and smiling at me.

I wave and smile and rise to walk in the other direction. I have reached my decision, this game has ended.

 

 

**The Tale of a Dream**

And just like that, it‘s done.

I know, Paul wouldn‘t approve of my decision, but I can‘t go on living the life of a hermit because my family is scared about me. Trusting someone always comes with risks and I can‘t spend my whole life avoiding those.

I will trust Dominic.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Secret is unveiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, finished another chapter of this one. Dunno why this wasn‘t finished so much earlier… Since it‘s been almost done.

**The Tale of a Death**

I stand in front of the mirror on my wardrobe after pacing my room several times. I look at the phone clutched in my hand, the yellow bubble of his text message on the screen shining at me.

His address.

I officially have Matt‘s address now.

I should be happy. Excited. Pleased. I‘m victorious after all.

But all I feel is doubt and fear, second guessing all my decisions.

I‘m afraid of meeting him again, of going to his flat and spending the evening with him. My eyes fall to the intricate, dark-blue pattern that runs from my left shoulder. It‘s the mark Grace left on me when making me her partner. I snort.

Partner is such a euphemism, anyway; I‘m nothing more than her toy and servant.

I wonder what Matt will say when he sees the mark. Maybe I should have told him that I‘ve got some kind of tattoo on my shoulder. Sighing, I grab a shirt and slip into it before pocketing my phone and walking downstairs.

Of course, Grace is sitting in the kitchen, reading another penny dreadful and chuckling at the cheesy contents. She looks up when I stop in the kitchen door and smirks.

„Tonight‘s the night, is it?“ she purrs.

I nod. „He texted me his address earlier.“

Her smirk grows. „Splendid.“

I nod again and turn to leave, her voice following me.

„Dominic?“

I turn and hum.

„Don‘t fuck up or think you can have a happily ever after with him. You know what you are.“

„What the fuck are you implying?“ I snap.

„People like us can‘t love. Whatever you think you‘ve got going on with him, get over it.“

I snort. „Yeah, right.“

Without waiting for another remark or lecture, I leave the flat and walk towards Matt‘s apartment.

 

 

I ring the bell on the door of the building his apartment is in. Without a greeting or question, the door buzzes and I push it open, ascending the staircase and wondering what his flat will look like.

Matt‘s standing in the door, leaning casually against the frame and smirking. He wears a black shirt, tightly fitted with the first buttons undone; there‘s no doubt about how he plans to end this evening.

I reciprocate his smirk and cross the few metres to stand before him.

Matt lifts his arms and crosses them behind my neck, pulling me closer while pushing himself against me. He presses his lips against mine and I close my eyes, just enjoying the simple gesture.

We break and he pulls me inside, closing the door behind us. Only then do we speak.

„You look good,“ Matt purrs against my lips.

„You‘re one to speak,“ I chuckle. „You‘re looking absolutely gorgeous.“

He sniggers and rushes off towards the kitchen. „As I‘ve told you before, flattery will get you far, my friend.“

I pout and follow him, taking in the patchwork of furniture in his apartment. It looks as if he has borrowed and snagged each piece of furniture from different people. Not even his chairs match. I sit down on one of them, looking down at an empty plate and cutlery.

„It‘s not flattery when I‘m stating facts,“ I shout after him.

Matt just laughs and comes back into the living room, a bowl of spaghetti in his hands. „I hope you don‘t mind pasta. My brother always wants to send me to a cooking course, because it‘s the only dish I can produce.“ He puts the bowl onto the table and fills my plate with a mountain of pasta. „But I‘ve perfected my pasta skills,“ he adds.

„Pasta‘s fine,“ I say. „I don‘t know when I last had pasta with sauce that doesn‘t come from a supermarket paket.“

Matt laughs and fills his plate with spaghetti before skipping into the kitchen again. „You‘re in for a treat,“ he says when he returns with another bowl.

We sit and eat, idle chatter and flirtatious banter flittering between us. He was right. He really has perfected his pasta skills. I groan when I push the first bite into my mouth.

Matt looks at me, his eyes darkening at the sound I‘m making. I suck the remainder of some spaghetti into my mouth and swallow, smirking at him. „You like that sound?“ I purr.

Matt nods. He leans closer and licks his lips. „I can‘t wait to hear it from you when we‘re somewhere else.“

„I‘ll happily groan and moan for you when you take me to your bedroom.“

A blush rises in Matt‘s cheeks and I‘m sure it‘s got nothing to do with embarrassment. He mutters a weak „Fuck yes,“ and digs into his own dish.

The conversation stays innocent until I feel something creeping up my leg. I look up and find Matt sitting slightly slumped down, most of him vanishing beneath the table. He grins and shifts, his foot pushing into my trouser leg and shoving it up.

„Matthew,“ I growl.

He smiles, almost innocently. „Dominic?“

Growling again, I push the chair back and walk around the table to stand next to him. He smiles up at me.

„I don‘t want to wait any more,“ I say and lean down, stopping shortly before our lips touch.

„I don‘t want to wait, either,“ he says, his warm breath brushing against my lips. He reaches up and pulls me down to press our lips against each other, his tongue in my mouth as soon as we touch.

I reach down and pull him from the chair and we stumble towards the couch. I yank the buttons of his shirt open and he shrugs it off before pushing me against the couch. I fall and look up at him, smiling.

„I want you,“ I say. And I know it‘s the only truth. I couldn‘t give a shit about Grace or what she expects from me. All I know is that she won‘t get him; Matt‘s gonna be mine.

He kneels above me and I lift my hands to touch his skin, run them over his body like I have imagined so many nights now. He‘s beautiful. I remember what he told me about enjoying being worshipped and lean up, pressing my lips against his sternum.

I can feel him shiver and sigh. My hands move to his waist, holding him while I kiss over his chest, moving towards one of his nipples and sucking the small nub into my mouth. He moans and it‘s the sweetest sound I‘ve ever heard. I run my hands over his sides, pressing my lips to every inch of his skin. I want to lose myself in him, want to drown in the noises he‘s making.

I never want to feel or hear or smell or taste anything different. He dominates all my senses and I welcome it. I crave his presence.

„Let me see you,“ he grunts and I nod and pull away, albeit reluctantly. But the thought of his skin pressed against mine makes me smile and I lift my arms for him to pull off my t-shirt. He lets it fall to the floor and looks back at me.

He freezes and stares at the mark, his hand right hand moving to press against his left shoulder, gripping it tightly. I feel cold.

„Matt,“ I whisper. Does he know? Has he seen the mark before and knows what I am? The way he‘s clutching his shoulder makes me wonder if he has had an encounter before. I reach out for him, but he bats my hand away.

„Don‘t fucking touch me,“ he shouts. Matt shoves me back into the couch and jumps up, darting for the kitchen. I lay for a second, frozen and trying to understand what has happened. I don‘t quite understand how I feel, but it‘s terrifying. It‘s a dark place and I can‘t stand it. I know I‘ve got to get up and get to Matt. I need to make him see that I won‘t hurt him, that he‘s mine.

I rush after him into the kitchen just in time to see him grabbing the biggest knife he owns. For a moment I wonder why a person would keep a knife that‘s almost as big as their forearm in their kitchen. He swivels around when he hears me coming into the kitchen and points the knife at me.

„You bloody liar,“ he hisses and his words are stained with hatred.

I swallow. Against all instincts I take a step closer. „Stop this,“ I plead. Judging by my voice, I‘m begging even. I‘m _begging_ a human. „I won't kill you.“

„I don't believe you,“ he snarls and changes the hold of his knife. Instead of pointing it at me, the blade is resting against his throat now. I feel my knees getting weak; I‘m shaking. This is even worse than him pointing the knife at me, I want to vomit. I want to fall to my knees and beg him to let the knife go, to listen to me and to trust me again. But he‘s far from that. He sneers. „Why else would you bother with a human? Does it give you a hard-on, picking a member of a hunting family? Does it feed your ego to have me falling for you?“

I blink. „You're a member of a hunting family?“ And I finally remember why the name Bellamy rings a bell. I was blind to not remember before. Grace has to know as well. She knew since I first told her Matt‘s name, and she didn‘t bother to even warn me or stop me.

„Yes. Don't think they'll just stand by and let you murder me. They'll avenge me.“

„I didn‘t know,“ I offer weakly.

Matt just snorts and presses the knife against his skin. „Why do you insist on keeping the facade? You can drop it now.“

I can‘t take it anymore. I won‘t just stand by and watch him kill himself. Without thinking I lunge forward and grab his wrist with one hand. I yank his hand away while pushing against his chest with my other hand. He screams and shouts at me, but I‘m stronger, I always am stronger than humans. So I force his hand down and hit it against the kitchen counter until his fingers loosen around the handle and the knife slips from his fingers.

I try to tell him that I love him; that I wouldn't hurt him, but he just snorts and mocks me. “You're not able to feel love. You're a monster. Monster!” he shouts into my ear. He pushes my hands away once again and darts for the knife.

So I do the only thing I know. I reach for him, pull him back and sink my teeth into his shoulder. I only stop when his screams and thrashing stops. He sinks out of my arms, lying on the floor. I don't even dare to bend down to check if he's still alive. It doesn't matter anyway. Even if he is alive, the poison will kill him soon.

I run.

I'm a monster and I condemned the only soul that could have loved me to death.

 

 

**The Tale of a Dream**

The pain is worse than I remembered. But maybe it‘s just doubled by betrayal and the knowledge that no one will save me this time. I feel coldness before my mind drifts and I thankfully embrace unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after the Fateful Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we‘re getting to a few scenes that I have written in London, Gatwick while waiting for my plane to Amsterdam. God, sometimes you gotta love life. XD
> 
> And yeah, due to a certain someone over at twitter you get this actually before I go to bed as opposed to when I wake again. I just couldn‘t keep her crying at my feet. It makes me look cruel. So all say thanks to [](http://ashamedbliss.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ashamedbliss.livejournal.com/)**ashamedbliss**  
> 

**The Tale of a Death**

I lurk around Matt‘s house for days, wondering what to do.

I haven‘t been back to where I live with Grace yet, and I don‘t plan to ever return. She‘d kill me. I pause in my pacing. Maybe that‘d be for the best. I don‘t deserve to live after what I‘ve done. Maybe I should go to Matt‘s family, admit what I‘ve done, tell them what I am and let them pass judgement on me.

But I can‘t. Not before I know what has happened to Matt. I need to know. Maybe I haven‘t killed him. Maybe the poison wasn‘t enough and he can be saved. Maybe he‘s all right. Weakened, and betrayed, but alive. I refuse to think of his body as dead and lifeless in his own home. I could have walked into his flat and assured myself that he wasn‘t dead, but I was too scared of what I might find.

I‘ve been to the Drinking Piano. The staff knew me by now as Matt‘s boyfriend and they tried to be helpful, but none of them knew anything about Matt‘s family or his whereabouts. So in the end, I was forced back to lurking in Matt‘s street. I know his brother had been visiting on a regular basis, so I knew he would turn up at some point.

I notice someone coming down the street and casually walk on, glancing sideways. Paul Bellamy. I recognise him because, like every lurer, I saw pictures of my enemies, of the hunters that hunted the predators.

Looking at Paul, I don‘t know why I never noticed anything. He‘s got the same cheekbones as Matt, the same messy hair, even if his is shorter. He‘s taller and more strongly built, but then, unlike Matt, he‘s a hunter. He has to train regularly to stay alive.

Our eyes meet as we pass and he frowns at me. I cock my head, offering what I hope is a friendly but curious smile. He looks away and walks straight to Matt‘s door, not bothering with the doorbell, but letting himself in.

I don‘t know if this is a good sign or not. If Paul still bothers to turn up at this place, it means they don‘t know that something happened to Matt. I feel another spell of vertigo. I mustn‘t think like that, not yet.

Only five minutes later, Paul returns. He doesn‘t look left or right on the street and rushes past me, talking into his phone.

„He‘s not in his flat,“ I can hear him. Someone on the other end asks something, but I can‘t decipher the agitated female voice. Matt‘s mother?

„I don‘t know,“ Paul answers. His expression is one of despair. I look after him as he rushes past, swearing to find Matt and eliminate whatever has caused any harm to him.

It‘s the first time I’ve actually met those that are left behind. I swallow. That‘s the reason why the first thing that changes in you are your emotions. You wouldn‘t survive if you couldn‘t ignore the despair and mourning in those left behind.

I almost run after Paul, admitting what I‘ve done, but I think better of it. Paul has said that he hasn‘t found Matt. So Matt has to be somewhere else. Someone has removed Matt from his flat after I had run.

There could only be one person to do that. Which means that I can‘t turn myself over to the Bellamy clan just yet.

 

 

**The Tale of a Dream**

Someone's yanking my hair and I blink, trying to remember what happened.

“Dominic…” I whisper when I remember. Why didn't he just kill me? But of course, he can't kill me on his own; the final stroke will always be delivered by the one who chooses.

Laughter fills my ears and I turn my head to the left to see the face of a blond woman, her eyes shining red in the sparse light. It‘s Dominic‘s childhood friend. Grace.

„You're the choosing one,” I state weakly.

She laughs again. „And you're the one who twists my poor lurer's head around.” I feel her hands in my hair tighten and she pushes my head around in a circle, accompanying her words with the fitting gesture.

The movement hurts my shoulder and I wince.

“I would have never thought you were one of the Bellamy clan when I picked you,” she sniggers and straddles me. I want to push her off, but my hands are tied behind me to a pole. I glance around, trying to figure out where I am. „I mean, I heard Dominic mention your name, but I never would have thought they'd have an offspring like you.” She laughs and drags her tongue over my cheek. I try to twist my head away, but her hands hinder any attempts of escaping.

“They kept you a closely guarded secret,” she purrs and starts to unbutton my trousers. I‘m still shirtless. I try to ignore her and look around. I see some items lying around, unrecognisable with the layers of undisturbed dust covering them, a few long forgotten boxes that are covered what once might have been white sheets. Now they‘re as dusty and grey as most things in this room. I can see scuff marks in the dust leading from the door to where I am sitting. Sloped walls covered with tiles and a few small windows. I can see the blue sky through the dusty glass. An attic. She really made the effort to drag me up all those stairs and into an attic.

“Do you know that Dominic thinks he's in love with you?” Grace asks.

“He said so,” I answer.

“Do you believe him?”

I snort. “Would I be here if it was true?”

She shrugs. ”He ran away after your little hissy fit. Haven't seen him since.”

I avoid her eyes and look down to where her hand rests against my groin. I want her gone from this place. “You're monsters. People like you are unable to…”

“…love, I know,” she interrupts me. “I keep telling him the same. He won't believe me though. Oh, he might scoff at me whenever I deliver this lecture or state my suspicions, but I know him. After all these years, I know him. And he‘s changed since I set him onto you.”

I just snort and shift, glancing down at the dark mark running down my shoulder starting from the bite. I always found the dark blue pattern the poison leaves fascinating. So intricate and beautiful for something this abhorrent and absolutely deadly, like blotches of ink that fell into a glass of water and are leaving their trail before tinting the whole glass with their colour.

“What about you? Do you love him?”

“Just get on with it and finish what he‘s started,” I hiss.

She laughs again and pulls my trousers of me. I‘m left naked and even more vulnerable, nothing to hide anything behind. “I see you've fallen for him. Oh, poor, ickle Bellamy, dying by the hand of his beloved and his partner in crime. I'll make sure the Bellamy clan won't keep _that_ secret.”

“Whatever. Your death won't be kept secret either.”

She laughs again and attaches her lips to my throat, dragging a wet trail over it until she's suckling on my Adam's apple. I swallow and squeeze my eyes shut, leaning my head back. Of course, she'd choose the most painful way to finish me.

I scream, but her hand clamps down on my mouth, shutting my pain inside myself. If I had thought his bite had been painful, I had been wrong. Her teeth are barely scraping my skin, but I‘m in agony. I yank at my bonds and try to kick her, but I‘m too weak to move. Within seconds all I know is pain. I can‘t think, I can‘t move. I can only hang in my bonds against the pole and wait for it to be over.

She eventually leaves me, and the tiny part of my brain that slowly starts working again through the pain that‘s dominating my body knows she left me alive on purpose. She wouldn‘t even grant me the short relief of losing consciousness.

 

 

Several days must have passed, or weeks or maybe just hours, I don't know. My world has become pain, and nothing else but pain. She never kills me, only tortures me, taking just enough so both of us survive. And she‘s always there when I‘ve just recovered.

My mind drifts, wondering where Dominic is and why he's not here, with her — with me. Why they haven't killed me yet. But maybe that'd be just too easy on me. Where's the fun in finishing someone of a hunter clan so soon? You draw it out, enjoy it; tell your peers about it and metaphorically parade your prisoner around. I‘m not prey anymore. I‘m a bloody trophy.

More often than not, I have to suppress begging. Begging for her to let me go, to let me die. Why can't she just kill me? He won't come back for any of us, no matter how long she manages to draw out my death.

I can hear her footsteps approaching, but don‘t lift my head to look at her. I‘m shivering and I‘m not sure if it‘s because of the cold that sitting naked in an attic causes, or if it‘s because of the pain that I know will be numbing me once again.

„Why am I still alive?“ I ask once she‘s knelt down in front of me, her hand stroking over my leg in a mock-caring gesture, squeezing my knee and slowly stroking over my inner thigh. I don‘t even have the energy to jerk my leg away. „The poison should've killed me by now.“

She chuckles. „Smart boy.“ I feel her index finger press against my chin and I comply, lifting my head to look at her. „Because Dominic didn't want to kill you. He really wants to be with you. The only problem is that he already has a partner.“

„He…“ I frown, my muddled brain struggling to understand what she‘s implying. „Dom tried to…“

She shifts her hand to grab my throat, restricting my air supply and pressing against my sore Adam‘s apple. I whimper; screaming takes too much energy.

„Yes, he tried to turn you,“ she hisses. „The poison in you isn't supposed to kill you, but to change you into something to stay with him. Unfortunately, he's still bound to me. Do you know what this means?“

I let my head drop forward in a weak nod. „I can't change, because that'd mean taking his place and making him the one that chooses. But as long as you're the choosing one, that's impossible.“

Grace chuckles and lets go of my throat to pat my head. „And I don't plan on setting the precious blond free. Which means, that I can draw out the torture as long as I want because you won‘t die for quite some time.“

I shudder, the temptation to beg her for at least the mercy to kill me overwhelming. But even if I begged, she‘d just laugh, chalking it up as another victory, and would still keep me alive. „Why?“

Her hands are in my hair, yanking me forward, and she hisses against my face. „Because you tried to steal what's mine.“

I don't even argue against this. It's pointless, she'll believe what she wants to believe and I'll be screaming in pain whenever she wants me to.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Decisions are reached

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus we‘ve reached the end of this little story. Thank you all who read and commented and enjoyed and waited patiently.
> 
> And maybe you‘re noticing that I‘m reading PTerry‘s Snuff at the moment. XD I think it affected last Stray Dogs chapter and it surely has left it‘s mark in this chapter, too.

**The Start of a Dream**

I carefully open the door to the old house Grace usually uses to kill the prey and stop on the doorstep to listen. I don‘t hear her. That doesn‘t have to mean anything. If I‘m right, she‘s going to be upstairs, in the attic. She likes finishing our prey in there. She thinks it‘s similar to a dungeon or basement, but less clichéd. I roll my eyes and shift my arm.

The knife I have brought from Matt‘s kitchen slides down into my palm and I swiftly unwrap the towels I had wrapped around it to keep the blade from slicing my arm. I don‘t know for sure that she‘s here. I checked our house and she wasn‘t there, so this is the only place she could be staying in. I growl. She‘s going to die, and after that, I‘m going to follow her. I clench my jaw and slowly ascend the staircase.

Just then, I hear a scream. I freeze in place and stare. It‘s Matt‘s voice. I can‘t trust my ears, but I‘d never forget that voice, that scream. He‘s in pain, but that shrinks away to a tiny, irrelevant detail, because he‘s _alive_. Maybe, just maybe, I can save him.

I tighten my hold on the knife again and walk up to the first floor. Only now do I see fresh footsteps in the settling dust and a few dragging marks. She has dragged someone up to the attic recently. I don‘t even pause before opening the door to the attic and walking up the last stairs. His screams have given way to a hoarse whimper just as I push the last door open.

Grace towers above him and looks up, smirking at me. Matt‘s head is hanging down, lolling, and I can hear him whimpering. He‘s alive. He‘s alive. He‘s alive. Even if barely so. I don‘t understand how, but I know I have to be quick if I want to keep it that way. He‘s naked and only now do I notice the intricate pattern on his shoulder. It‘s different from all the other patterns I‘ve seen on my prey. They resemble my own marks.

„Get away from Matthew,“ I snarl.

Chuckling, Grace rises and stands next to him. Her eyes fall to the knife in my hand and she laughs. „What do you think you‘re doing with that?“

Matt weakly lifts his head and I wonder if he even registers anything that‘s happening. How could he even have survived this long? His body should be decomposing with poison right now. Unless…

„I‘m going to save Matthew,“ I answer Grace‘s question.

She shakes her head, choosing to mask her face in sadness for the moment. „People like us, we don't fall in love, we're unable to,“ she repeats her mantra.

„I don't care,“ I snap. „I love him.“

Grace sighs and drops her façade. She kicks Matt‘s leg and I want to rip her heart out. „We will kill him now, though.“

„I won't allow this.“

I swear, I can see something like curiosity showing in Matt‘s bleak eyes. There‘s hope. I can save him. I can save him and he‘ll be fine. He will survive and move on. He may never be mine, but he‘ll live.

„So it's coming to this,“ she snarls. „What do you want? Live together with him until you starve? Or do you want to take my place and make him your partner?“

I don‘t even dare to think about the latter option. He would never agree to something like this. And I wouldn‘t even know how to go about that. But that doesn‘t matter. The only thing that does matter is his survival.

 

 

**The End of a Death**

I must be delirious. I can hear Dominic arguing with Grace, declaring that he loves me. I‘d laugh if I weren’t even too weak for that. Instead I weakly lift my head, only to see him standing in middle of the room carrying the knife I had wanted kill myself with earlier. It‘s all too good to not be a fantasy caused by my dying brain. Because that‘s the only explanation, isn’t it?

Except he‘s looking straight at me, and I can‘t believe it‘s delirium any longer. He‘s here. And he‘s fighting to save my life. I try to watch, but Dom and Grace are blurry and my vision is fading in and out. I hear hisses and shouts, screams and whimpers. The smell of blood fills my nose and I force myself to lift my head and _look_.

Dom is kneeling beside Grace‘s body, my knife buried in her back. I can‘t help but weakly grin. At least _someone_ had been killed with it, just as my dear mother always had predicted when she saw me working with the instrument.

Dom looks up and leaves Grace‘s side to crawl over to me. He hushes, whispering _sorry_ and _I love you_ while yanking at my bonds.

I look at her body and the blood forming a puddle around her. „You killed her?“ My voice is hoarse and I can only croak, but at least I can utter something.

„Yes,“ Dom answers. He gives up on my bonds and crawls back to Grace. He pulls the knife from her dead body. I watch him return, the knife in his hand as he kneels down beside me.

„I won‘t hurt you, I promise,“ he whispers.

I shrug and whimper. Too much movement for my limbs. The bonds fall free and my arms fall forward into a more relaxed position, unable to do more. And even this movement hurts. He pulls me into his lap and against his chest. I whimper weakly, trying to suppress any other signs of discomfort. Call me stupid, but whatever‘s going to happen, I want to feel him at least one last time.

He cradles my head and presses his lips against my hair and forehead, over and over again. I‘m shocked to find liquid hitting my face. A few drops hit my lips and I can taste the salt of tears. He‘s crying.

„Matthew…“ he whispers. „I‘m sorry. I‘m so sorry.“

„What for?“ I croak. He has lied to me. He‘s a predator. All that he had done was a means to kill me in the end. I can‘t trust him. Apart from the fact that he marked me as his, that he came back for me and killed his partner for me. I don‘t know what to believe anymore.

„Making you go through this,“ he sobs and goes on kissing my face, „Not being honest with you. I don‘t want you to die.“

I snort, the motion far too painful and I slump against him, whimpering pathetically. „You‘ve got no clue about what you‘ve actually done, have you?“ I ask. „You just decide over my life and don‘t even know.“

He stills and shifts to look into my eyes. „What do you mean?“

I glance up, seeing him upside down from this angle. „Maybe I would rather be dead than becoming what you are, have you thought about that?“ I snarl at him.

He frowns. He really has no clue, it‘s almost endearing. „You‘re… How?“

„Your poison…“ I mutter and slowly lift my arm to rest on my shoulder.

At last, he seems to understand. „I didn‘t fill you with the deadly poison?“ He frowns and glances at Grace‘s body. „But then you should be changing now. Grace is dead, I‘m free to choose a partner.“

„It‘s not enough, apparently.“

He nods and we lie in silence for a while. I wonder if I should speak first, pointing out that there are only two options right now. Either he needs to fill me with more poison, turning me for good, or…

„Come with me, please,“ he speaks eventually. „Let me fill you with the poison completely.“

„And what then? What do you want me to do?“ I ask. Is he really asking a descendant from a hunter clan to become a lurer?

„You can be my partner.“

„Depending on killing to survive?“

He sighs. „It isn't much different than killing cattle,“ he offers in an attempt to make the prospect less horrifying.

My only answer is another mocking snort followed by a rattling cough. I feel my consciousness slipping again and close my eyes.

„Please, I beg you,“ his voice pulls me back to the attic. „I never begged someone before. Please don't leave me.“

I open my eyes again to look at him „What'll happen to you now?“ He doesn‘t answer, just looks away, so I question him again. „Will you find another partner?“

He still doesn‘t look at me. „I'd have to make one, would have to find someone who could be a lurer.“

„Good luck on finding someone,“ I say and close my eyes again.

And finally he looks at me again. Oh, those grey eyes. „I only want you,“ he pleads. „If you die, I will, too.“

„Stop being stupid,“ I snap. „Why would you want to throw your life away over cattle?“

He emits a shout of frustration. „Why can‘t you just believe me when I say I love you? What do I have to do to make you believe me?“

I shrug. „Just kiss me one more time.“

„Matthew,“ he pleads.

I shrug again and cough, I‘m getting cold, and this time it has nothing to do with actually being cold or being afraid of the next wave of pain. This is the end. „Then don‘t kiss me and let me die like this.“ I know, I‘m cruel right now, but I don‘t care. He lied to me, and if he can‘t even grant me this wish his words were just what I accused them of being. Lies.

Carefully, he pulls me further up and twists me around, ignoring my pained hisses until our lips meet once again. I close my eyes and enjoy the touch of warm lips, a gentleness that I had almost forgotten over the past days. I manage to lift my hands into his hair; it‘s softer than I remember.

Eventually, we part and he whispers another declaration of love against my lips. I let my hands fall onto his shoulders and lean my head back. It‘s hard to keep it from lolling, so I let my forehead fall against his.

„Take me with you,“ I whisper, „fill me with your poison.“

His head jerks back and mine falls forward. I wince in pain at the sudden movement. He apologises and puts one hand underneath my chin, pushing my face up to look at me. I offer him a smile and weakly tug at his neck, pulling his head down to my shoulder.

„You haven‘t got much time before I die,“ I mutter.

Dom doesn‘t answer. He opens his mouth against my shoulder and I feel his teeth pierce through the skin and into my flesh.

„Mine,“ he growls.

And once again, all I feel is pain. But I tell myself that it‘s okay, that this will be the last time I‘ll ever feel this pain. I‘ll be with him, and I pray that at least my feelings for him won‘t change through the process of turning.

 

 

Darkness.

It surrounds me, welcoming me as a long lost friend. I look around and extend my hands. I remember when I was a child I used to be afraid of the dark. It‘s where the monsters are. Every child knows this, and children of a hunter family soon learn that those monsters are real. I never had a parent explain to me that I needn‘t be afraid, that there wouldn‘t be a monster behind the next corner, waiting to tear my guts out of my stomach. I had parents telling me to be careful, to watch each and every shadow in case something moved in it.

I never really overcame that fear, always making sure there‘d be a street lamp outside of my bedroom. But now, floating in this absolute darkness, not even able to see my own hand in front of my eyes, I‘m not afraid. I can feel it embracing me and I feel secure. Stronger than I have ever felt before. I smirk and follow the voice that‘s calling for me.

I blink and look up at Dom. He‘s smiling down at me and I smile back. Something‘s itching in my shoulder and I lift my hand, surprised to touch cloth instead of skin.

„I didn‘t want you to get cold, so I dressed you again,“ Dom explains and runs his hand through my hair. His torso is naked, so I conclude that I must be wearing his shirt.

I close my eyes and enjoy the simple touch of his hand, still smiling. The tranquillity is short-lived however, when a loud noise sounds and I hear Dom screaming and feel him jerking back.

I open my eyes again to see Paul standing in front of us, his gun pointed straight at Dom, who‘s clutching his bleeding shoulder and screaming in pain. I crawl over to Dom and press my hands against his wound.

„No,“ I whisper. This can‘t be happening. I just gave up my life and family to follow him. He can‘t be torn away from me this shortly after.

„Matthew, step back from him,“ I hear Paul say.

A growl threatens to escape my lips, but I force it down. I care about Paul, I tell myself; he‘s been the most important person in my life during the past few years. Without him, I would have been long since dead. He only means well. I squeeze my eyes shut. I won‘t try to kill him, because I care about him.

„Matthew,“ he speaks again. „He's the lurer.“

I shake my head, my hands still pressed against Dom‘s wound. He‘s whimpering. „No.“

„I know you don't want to believe…“

Finally, I look up at my brother and stand. Dom‘s hand falls to my shoe, holding on to my ankle weakly. He murmurs my name. „He isn't,“ I tell Paul. „Not any longer.“

Paul frowns. His eyes fall to Dom‘s hand on my ankle. „What do you mean?“

Instead of answering, I unbutton my shirt and shrug it off. I spread my arms in gesture of protecting Dom. “I am the lurer now.“

„Matthew…“ Paul chokes. He let‘s his weapon sink towards the floor. „Tell me this isn‘t true.“

„It is true,“ I answer. I know I should be caring more, should be more affected by my pale brother. He looks as if he‘s going to cry any moment now. But all I can care about is getting me and Dom out of this situation mostly undamaged. There‘s nothing else that matters. I know I should at least be shocked about the absence of feelings towards the man in front of me, but there is nothing.

„Paul,“ I say.

He lifts his gun and points it at me. Even if he shoots now, it would only hit me by chance; he‘s shaking too much. „How could you do this to your family?“ he shouts at me. „To me?“

I glance at my feet for a moment. When I look up again, his face has hardened. „Paul,“ I repeat.

„Shut up,“ he snarls at me. „You‘re not my brother any longer!“

„Let me talk, please, I can already feel the changes. Soon we'll be enemies and you will hunt me.“ I close my eyes for a moment. He‘s silent, waiting for me to go on. „You've been a great brother to me. I would be dead if it wasn‘t for you.“ I smile. „I always used to look up to you. Do you remember when we were kids? I used to be so afraid of the darkness, and you were always there, assuring me that it wouldn‘t harm me? That you would always be there to beat everything that would come from the darkness?“

„I‘m sorry that I couldn‘t protect you,“ he whispers.

„But you did. You kept the darkness away when I was afraid of it. But now I had to choose which way to go.“ I look down at Dominic. He‘s curled up and in pain. I look back at Paul. „He really loves me and I want to be with him, at any cost.“

Paul nods, the gesture more a short jerk of his head. „I will hunt you down. When I see you the next time, I will execute you.“

„I know.“

He walks away and I fall down next to Dom. I look after Paul.

„Paul?“

He stops, but doesn‘t turn.

„I‘m not afraid of the darkness anymore. I‘ve found my place,“ I say.

He looks over his shoulder at us. „I hope you‘ll never regret your decision, brother.“

„Thank you for everything, brother.“

I don‘t watch him go, choosing to tend to Dom instead.


End file.
